


Experiments and Adjustments

by colorguard28



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorguard28/pseuds/colorguard28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When new variables enter the equation, recalculation is inevitable. Since Scorpion started working with Homeland Security, the number of variables seems to multiply with every case. Starts after Plutonium is Forever. Minor spoilers for episodes up through Talismans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The information about Megan’s MS in Single Point of Failure — yes, I did stop the scene to read the letter — reminded me of some information I learned a few years back, so I did a little research. I tried to get it correct, but I’m a journalist, not a scientist, so all errors in the medical information are mine. Also, this is my first Scorpion fanfic, so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Scorpion and any other recognizable entities are the property of their respective owners and no money is being made off their use.

Once all the dishes from a dinner of chicken piccata — and the vegetables Paige insisted on — were cleaned up, Ralph headed right up to the loft to where the telescope lenses were sitting on the table. Walter showed him how to check for spherical aberration, then settled back into the samples by the centrifuge. 

“What are you testing?” Paige asked. 

Walter jotted down the results of the first set of tests. “Relapsing-remitting MS, which is the most common form, involves recurring bouts of inflammation in the peripheral nervous system, or PNS, that travel into the central nervous system — the CNS — and treatments focus on stopping those inflammation events. Megan has a different form of MS, primary progressive, and it doesn’t respond to those treatments because there are no external inflammation events involved. If I can isolate what might cause the attacks on the myelin sheaths in the CNS, I can then test for ways to stop those attacks from occurring.” He set up the next set of samples as he talked. “I’m running simulations based on information reported in a subset of MS patients.” Information delivered, he continued his tests in silence, but periodically he looked over to see how Ralph was doing. 

“Now what?” Ralph asked as he put the last lens down, then yawned. 

“Now, it is past your bedtime,” Paige said. 

Walter straightened up and initiated a thoracic and lumbar spinal manipulation. 

“Does that hurt?” Ralph asked, yawning again. 

“No, and you’re not staying to get an explanation. Get your backpack,” Paige said, running her hand over his hair as he passed. 

Once Ralph headed downstairs, Paige turned to him. “We will come back before school tomorrow, but you need sleep before then.” 

“I’ll walk you out to the car,” Walter replied. “It’s late.” He led the way downstairs. 

“You’re avoiding the-” Paige stopped at the sight of Ralph sitting at the workbench, head asleep on his arms. 

Walter looked at Paige, then Ralph, calculated and walked over to pick the boy up. 

“You didn’t have to-” Paige whispered. 

Walter cut her off. “The weight and size ratio between you and Ralph makes it unlikely you can carry him without suffering negative impacts on your own joints and muscles, but with an extra four inches in height and 39.23 pounds, I can compensate for his extra weight and maintain proper movement patterns for the 167 yards between here and your car.” 

“Thank you,” Paige said. 

When he entered the garage loft, the centrifuge had just finished running. He removed the samples and completed the tests for this batch.  
He could see the next steps clearly, but the bowl of soggy cereal on the table stopped him. 

_“And how do you avoid it?” Paige asked._

He looked at the clock and realized it was well after midnight and if he wanted to report back to Paige that yes, he had slept, he needed to stop now. The rabbit hole beckoned, but his time wasn’t his own anymore. Paige and Ralph would be by in the morning and Cabe would have a job for them after that. He couldn’t perform at peak efficiency without sleep unless he had that singular focus and Scorpion’s current diversity of projects wouldn’t allow that. 

He switched out the lights in the main part of the loft and headed for his bedroom. He changed for bed, then opened the small wooden box on his dresser. He pushed aside the poker chip, motel key card and bracelet, then pulled out a scrap of paper with 138.53 scrawled on it. He looked at it, then tore it into pieces and put it in the trash can.

Walter closed the box, turned out the light and went to bed. If he was only 17.76 pounds heavier than Paige, given their height difference, he wouldn’t have the appropriate ability to carry Ralph the next time he fell asleep. The 21.47 pounds that last rabbit hole with Mark had cost him were an unacceptable result in this new set of circumstances, so he would have to make sure that didn’t come to pass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I guess this is turning into a longer story. I don't know exactly where it's going, but I have some ideas. I also have part of the next chapter drafted, but it might be a day or so before I post it. I'm still feeling my way around inside these characters' heads

The sun woke Walter later that morning, and he quickly cleaned up and dressed. He had just enough time to run the next set of tests.

Each sample took four steps, and he had fourteen samples. He was on the fifty-third step when his elbow knocked into-

"Orange juice?" He looked up.

"Yes, Walter, orange juice," Paige replied. "Did you actually sleep last night?"

"I did." Walter focused back in on the samples.

"What are you doing?" Ralph asked.

"I'm running tests on two collections of samples to determine the range of variation within each set and between the sets," Walter said.

"Do the sets overlap?" Ralph asked.

"That's one of the things I'm trying to determine," Walter replied. "But you should go back to your lens tests. Until the samples are processed and we have results, this isn't particularly interesting."

He put the last sample into the centrifuge and closed the lid to turn it on.

"So, Ralph-" he said.

"Walter, Ralph ate his breakfast this morning," Paige said. She tossed him an apple.

He caught it and smiled. "Thank you," he said.

Paige stepped closer, and when she spoke, her voice was low enough that Ralph couldn't hear it. "I get that you guys work differently, but Ralph is young and growing and needs to eat and sleep-"

"Yes, he does." Walter looked over Paige's shoulder to where Ralph was engrossed in his tests. "I can't promise I won't go down the rabbit hole, but I will do my best not to bring him with me."

"Then I will leave you two geniuses to work while I take care of our summary report on the last case for Cabe," she said.

Before she headed downstairs, she stopped over to see Ralph and ran a hand through his hair, and Walter remembered the day they met.

_"He does it because he wants to hold your hand, but he can't process physical contact. So help him, or he will never connect with you."_

Walter programmed his phone to alert him in forty-seven minutes, then walked over to see how Ralph was coming.

"Come on, let's take this to the white board," Walter said, motioning across the loft's communal space. "Now, this is the formula for minimizing spherical aberration." He started writing. "So, what can we determine about the lenses for the telescope?"

As Ralph picked up the marker and started writing, Walter ran his hand over the boy's head.

**~Scorpion~Scorpion~Scorpion~Scorpion~**

Back down in the main room of the garage, Toby was engrossed in a video game and Sylvester had the chalkboard covered in equations — again. Happy was actually reading, something she rarely did, so Paige went to talk to her.

"What?" Happy asked.

"Can we, you know, talk?" Paige said, tipping her head toward the corner where Happy kept her tools. "About Collins."

Happy didn't say yes, but she did put down the book, so Paige took that as a positive sign.

"What about Collins?" the mechanical whiz asked. "You met him. You saw."

"I saw he had mental issues," Paige said. "Look, I would ask Toby, but then everybody in the room would hear. Does the rabbit hole have any-"

"No," Happy said. She paced around the corner before stopping and looking right at Paige. "Walter and Sylvester go down the rabbit hole two or three times a month, usually just for a day or so. They get focused on a project and go until they drop. For them, it's normal."

"Toby?" Paige asked.

"Not like that," Happy said. "The doc can gamble for 72 hours straight, but you've seen what happens when he does. Walter pulls him out of it before he gets to deep." She shrugged one shoulder. "Me, I don't do that. What I do, it takes muscle. I'll work like hell on a project, but chalk and markers aren't hazardous, and my tools are, so I make sure I get enough sleep and food and water."

"That's why, then," Paige said. "Yesterday, you said you had to pull Walter out once before. That's why it's you, because you are the only one who doesn't do it." She wrapped her arms around her body, imagining Ralph like Collins.

"I do it because they're my friends," Happy said. "Walter pulls Toby and Sylvester out, I pull Walter out." She crossed her arms, her chin tilted up.

"And who pulls you out?" Paige asked. She knew better than to reach out.

"I don't need anybody," Happy said.

"Is that why you were able to pull Walter away from Collins?" Paige asked. "Because he needed Walter and you didn't?"

"You want to know if Walter or Ralph will end up like Collins," Happy said. "They won't."

"Why not?" Paige asked, forcing her voice not to tremble. "How do you know that?"

"Collins plays people," Happy said. "You saw it. He looks for our weak points and targets them. Walter's not like that. Neither is Ralph. They might go down the rabbit hole, but they'll come back. I don't think Collins ever can."

"Neither do I," Paige said. She shivered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoiler for True Colors.

_A week or so later_

When Paige returned to the loft after walking Mrs. Mueller and the painting out, Walter was there alone.

"Where's Hetty?" she asked.

He looked around. "She was just here."

She stepped toward him and reached for his hand. "Let me change your bandage." Without waiting for a reply she led him over to the table, then turned her back and grabbed the first aid kit in the cabinet. When she looked at Walter again, he looked a little stunned, and she remembered that "Yes" in the boatshed.

Paige reached for his hand and unwrapped the gauze. The cut had stopped bleeding, but she definitely still needed to use a butterfly strip on it to keep the gash closed while it healed. By the time she rebandaged it, she had started to worry about how quiet Walter was. He kept looking down at his hand as she wrapped new gauze around it.

"It's going to be fine," she said. "No sign of infection." She hesitated. "You know that, though."

He didn't look up. "It's fine," he said.

"Walter, about earlier." Paige let his hand go, though she wasn't sure she wanted to. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable when we danced earlier."

"No, you were right," Walter said. "It was efficient."

"But you weren't comfortable with it," Paige said.

He looked up at her. "We had a problem to solve and that was the solution."

"That doesn't-" she stopped at a memory of something Walter had said the day they met.

" _When I was sixteen, Cabe asked me to develop tracking software to develop military aid packages."_

She realized everything she remembered about being a teenager was useless here. "Walter, have you ever danced with a woman before?" Paige asked.

"No." Walter straightened. "As I said earlier, I don't dance."

Paige stood up and held out her hand. "Tonight, you do."

"But-"

"We were lucky nobody noticed tonight, but if a situation like this comes up again, Walter, you have to know what to do without me telling you."

"I open the car door for you, I escort you with my arm and I dance if it's the most efficient way to accomplish our mission," Walter said, his spine still stiff.

Paige smiled. "I think it's time for another experiment," she said, motioning for him to stand.

"What kind of experiment?" Walter asked, but followed her to the kitchen.

"Do you remember where to put your hand when dancing?" she asked.

Walter nodded, but didn't move, so she reached out for his hands for the second time that night. He followed her lead, and this time his hand landed in more or less the right spot.

"Now, we dance," she said, leading him through a few steps.

"You don't need an experiment to test if I remember how to dance," Walter said.

Paige smiled as they stopped moving. "Move your hand four inches higher on my back, closer to where you had it at first," she said. Once he had, she started moving again.

After the second time Walter tripped over her feet, he stopped. "This is why I don't dance."

Paige giggled. "I might regret this, but think about the science of it. What did moving your hand change?"

"It was harder to move in the same pattern as you. That led to greater variation in our movements, especially since we have no music to keep time."

"Now, try moving your hand four inches below where it should be," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"It's an experiment, and I'm giving you permission," she said.

As he moved his hand down her back, he drew them closer together. This time, as they danced, their bodies were pressed against each other. She kept her eyes on his, watching for the inevitable signs of overload she'd learned to recognize from Ralph when he couldn't process something. As they moved, she slid her hand a little further on his shoulder. They settled into a rhythm, then he stopped abruptly and stepped back.

"This time, we had very little variation in our movement," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking at the floor. "The lower position made it more difficult for each entity to move independently, and the resulting friction stimulated the autonomic nervous system, specifically the pelvic splanchnic nerves in the parasympathetic nervous system."

Even though he wasn't looking at her, Paige was careful to hide her smile as the scientific terms spilled out. "So after this experiment, what have you determined?" she asked.

"That the next time we dance, my hand should be placed in the range delineated by the T11 vertebra and the L2 vertebra for optimum success," he said, finally looking up.

"Very good, Walter," she said. She hesitated, then decided a little nudge couldn't hurt. "That's the right answer for ballroom dancing. If we were in a club, dancing that generates friction would be the goal." She smiled at the expression on his face. "When you're ready for that lesson, let me know."

"Are you suggesting a case for Cabe would lead us to a nightclub?" he asked.

"In a month, we've been to an airport, the governor's mansion, a mall, a biology lab, a casino, a boathouse, a mansion and a nuclear reactor," she said. "I don't think a nightclub is beyond the realm of possibility, but we could ask Sylvester." She took a step, as though she were headed downstairs.

"No!" Walter said. "I mean, you're probably right. But-" He paused, and she made herself wait for him to start talking again. "What if I'm not ready for that lesson?"

"Then you would find a way," Paige said. "That's what you do. When it's important, you find a way." She smiled. "Even if that means doing something terrifying, like speeding down a runway with a plane right above your head or disarming a nuclear reactor." She headed for the stairs. "Now, I need to get home to Ralph, and you need to get some sleep before we meet with the psychologist tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still getting a feel for the characters, so all constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Also, several lines in this are from the True Colors episode and thus are not mine. :)

As Paige headed back upstairs after walking Mrs. Mueller out, Toby enjoyed the view from that slit in her dress. Calling Hetty had been one of his better ideas. Especially since the dress seemed to provoke something close to actual feelings in Walter. The kind he swore he didn't have, hiding behind his argument that he only did what was effective and logical. While Toby could finally agree that yes, Paige was making them more effective, he still didn't think it had been Walter's logic talking.

He sat at his desk, feet up on the surface, pretending to read, while he watched the rest of the team. Sylvester was scribbling on the blackboard. Again. That was normal. Happy right there with him wasn't. Toby wandered over.

"It needs to be light enough that he can wear it all night," Happy said.

"Since when do you care about clothes?" Toby asked. "Either of you?"

"It's for Ralph," Happy said. "And keep your voice down — it's a surprise."

Toby looked at the chalkboard. "Is that-?"

"It's perfect, right?" Sylvester said.

"You know, it is. So, I guess this means we're going to a party tomorrow."

"Shhh!" Sylvester said. "It's a surprise. Paige will hear you."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure she has other things on her mind right now," Toby said, smirking.

The Sylvester's calculations into the back room of the garage and started assembling the costume. As he followed Happy's directions, Toby took refuge in his usual smart-ass comments. Just because Walter was changing didn't mean he had to.

They finally knocked off work for a few hours.

"If we don't sleep, we're never going to pass the test," Happy said.

"I hate to break it to you, but sleep isn't our problem," Toby said. "We do have issues, and the shrink is going to be a normal. She's going to see the issues and not what we can do."

"I place our odds of passing this test at nine percent," Sylvester. "Fourteen percent if she takes into account our earlier successes, and three percent if she's been briefed by Director Merrick."

"Not good," Happy said. On that note, they called it a night.

Still, even as he went through his own interview the next day, Toby thought maybe, maybe, they could pull this off. It couldn't be any more impossible than what they had done in Las Vegas a week ago, and that had worked out okay. Mostly.

The shrink was good — she wasn't giving anything away. As they waited around the garage that afternoon, Toby decided to pull out the bottle of wine. If they didn't pass, they'd need it, and if they did pass, wine might get Walter to loosen up.

 

**~Scorpion~Scorpion~Scorpion~Scorpion~**

 

As the rest of the team took Ralph off to put on his costume, Walter wanted to follow, but Paige's expression stopped him.

"So let me get something straight," she said. "Art makes you feel nothing, yet you lied to your superiors and risked your job in order for us to return the painting to its rightful heirs. You also think Halloween is nonsensical, and yet you took time off work to get dressed up and go to Ralph's party."

Walter didn't know what to say to that, so he waited.

"For a guy who says he has no feelings, you sure are sweet," she said.

He wanted to say something, but he knew Ralph would be back in a minute

"Eh, it was just a costume," he said.

But later that night, as he watched the Halloween party and tried to figure out why anybody thought this was fun, he thought about what he could have said.

" _About those dance lessons…"_  No, he knew he wasn't ready for what she had hinted at.

" _Family is important."_  He didn't know if they could accurately be quantified like that, not matter what the psychologist said about homes and belonging.

" _Your feelings are the ones that matter."_  Hetty might have been right about his motivation, but that didn't mean he was ready to admit it.

In the end, he knew he was right not to have said anything. But that night, he had to force himself not to pause and rewind his dreams.


End file.
